The Shadows In The Room
by The Atypical Big Diesel
Summary: Ochako is a delinquent gang member and Izuku is being used by his mother as a prostitute. One day, Ochako has an encounter with Izuku and it is through him that changes her direction. See how Izuku and Ochako overcome the struggles of hopelessness, poverty, and disdain as they try to survive. Will their love be enough? The perils of IzuOcha! {Modern AU} {NSFW}
1. Some Dreams (Aren't So Lucid) (Part I)

_**Warning: this story is a bittersweet drama. Content featured in this story includes sensitive subject matter that includes violence, rape, and prostitution. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from reading this.**_

* * *

On the second floor of UA High School is the girls' bathroom. Reserved for the seniors, the bathroom was not to be used during instruction, or unless there was an emergency from one of the students. It was the decision of Ochako Uraraka as she sat idly in Kayama-sensei's class to raise her hand to use the restroom. The teacher stopped her lecture, turning to the student in question. Ochako gave her teacher pleading eyes of her duress of using the toilet facilities. It was met with a sigh as she pointed to her to leave her classroom. The brunette responded with a gentle nod of thanks before grabbing the hall pass from the teacher's desk and making her way out of the classroom.

The hallway during class was a fair contrast when transitioning to other classes. Instead of students running through the halls, tossing papers at classmates, leaning against the lockers, or occasionally, reaching for a textbook for another class, she felt like a loner in the vast hallway of learning. She let out a silent laugh as she reading the sign that was above her.

She pulled out a stick of gum from her jacket and begin chewing. Spearmint was her choice this afternoon. She borrowed it from one of her friends during P.E. class. If she would like to call them friends. She couldn't remember the last time she had a dependable person. Nowadays, everything is conditional. Everything has a price. Everything has a consequence. There was no such thing as a free lunch, her mother would recall to Ochako. She couldn't remember if it was before or after she hit her daughter. By this time, she could no longer recall the reason. Tardiness of curfew? Phone calls from school? 'Accidentally' borrowing her hidden stash of weed under her mother's bedroom? Ochako lost reasons to care. Like everything in this world, it falters at some point.

 _So, why start to care now_ , she thought as she headed towards her destination.

Her mother lost her job as a nurse after her accident when Ochako was thirteen. The family had to live on disability. It wasn't long when her father died from a work accident. Because of his working under the table for lack of job experience and lack of education, the family was unable to reap the benefits from his job. They didn't have any insurance on him. It was because of the community that his coffin and funeral were paid for. Since then, Ochako's distrust of people driven her to a point where she decided to go reclusive.

When she was fourteen, her mother resorted to alcohol for comfort. What started as an occasional glass would turn into an everyday habit. Because of constant violations of the law, her mother eventually lost disability benefits. Using her daughter as an excuse, they were able to go into welfare. Instead of issuing funds responsibility, she would often make trades with neighbors in exchange for more alcohol.

Ochako didn't have a say. If she did, it resulted with a hit by her mother. She remembered the first time when her mother struck her. It was when she entered her final year of junior high. She returned home excited about her joining the poetry club. It was met with a slap to the face with a bottle from her mother. "Poetry club? Your stupid ass would always have your head in the clouds, you ugly girl. Why not get a job and provide for this household, you lousy cunt?" Ochako ran from her drunken mother, blinded with hot tears and wincing pain from her face.

A pain that would form a scar on her cheek.

Her sulky mother apologized to Ochako, telling her that it wouldn't happen again. She has since heard plenty of times after that. Slaps to the face, kicks to the stomach, punches to the back. Holes in the wall, cracks on the mirror. Evidence of where her mother's apologizes resided. Faithful and devoted to her mother, she never reported it. Make-up covered the wounds. She attended school faithfully and dutifully. She always kept a smile on her face. "One day, I am going to make someone smile. And that smile is going to change the world."

Her aspiring words turned cold the day when her mother brought a date home for the evening. She was fifteen at the time. In her mother's drunken stupor, she told Ochako to call him Uncle. Obeying her mother, her uncle supplied her with much alcohol and barbiturates that could take down an elephant.

On the same night of her mother's introduction of her uncle, she was also raped. In the dead of night, her uncle sneaked into her bedroom. He held her at knifepoint, using the sharp razor as his threat, his defense, and his aid as he cut open her undergarments. He covered her mouth as the knife pressed on her neck. His sweaty body and groans filled the room as Ochako's first time were silently taken away.

No remorse as he climaxed inside of the distraught, distressed teen. She was even forced to wash the sheets that were covered in her blood. He watched her as he gave her orders. He even forced her to scrub the mattress. At the end of the night, he gave her a threatening message. "If you tell anyone, my goons will come for you and your bitch of a mother." Ochako would never forget his toothy grin. He licked the knife as his arms were folded. "Let's think of this night being a good night for the both of us. I showed you good things. You showed me a good time. And hey, you made me smile with your nubile pussy of yours." Wincing from the pain of her aching groin, sore from the forcing of his hand around her mouth and her neck, she continued to clean. It wasn't until he grabbed her by her flushed cheeks. "Would you smile for me, pretty girl?" She remembered the taste of his breath. It smelled like a brewery and cans of sardines. "Would you smile just this once?" Because of her refusal, he slapped her. Hard enough to cause unconsciousness. He spat at her, looking smugly at her before laughing. "Fine, be stubborn then. You are no better than the whores I force myself upon on. You will end up like a stain on the hotel floor. Misbegotten and forgotten, you wench."

Her uncle departed in the night. He took the rest of his drugs and their money with him. That very morning, Ochako's mother stormed into her bedroom. She angrily accused her of sending him off. She was attacked and beaten. Ochako didn't flinch. Ochako didn't cry. She did nothing. The feelings of hope and aspirations faded away. Ochako just kept her eyes open. It was a thousand mile stare.

Ochako wasn't the same Ochako since that day.

* * *

Ochako stood at the foot of the restroom entrance. She was very fortunate that the heavy wooden doors blockade any sound that penetrated the restroom. She scanned around for others before giving three silent knocks. Her knocks were returned with four silent knocks. She heard the door unlocked and saw someone standing in front of the door.

"Hey, Uraraka."

""Sup."

Ochako entered the restroom. The restroom was a standard restroom. Painted in the color of pink, it had four stalls and four sinks. It had an elongated window that extended on top of the wall. It was also the only restroom with an air dryer. However, this restroom was currently reserved for a more sinister purpose.

"You have your end of the bargain," asked the stranger. The purple-haired girl gave the brunette a glare. Ochako didn't respond as she reached into her pocket and handed her the money. The purple-haired girl gripped the cash, stuffing it into her pocket. "He's currently busy at the moment. Take a chill pill and relax with me, Yaoyorozu and Kendou for a minute. Utsushimi has dibs at the moment."

"Whatever, Jirou," she told the purple-haired girl.

"Utsushimi is in there giving him his most pleasurable experience," smirked Kyoka.

"I said what the fuck ever," scoffed Ochako. She didn't care. Were the moans and grunts coming from the bathroom stall evident, she questioned herself. The brunette's eyes met with the others. Each girl was sitting at the end of the stall. The redhead named Itsuka was smoking a cigarette. The black-haired girl named Momo was kneeling while glaring at her cell phone. The purple-haired girl stood behind, counting the collected money. She whistled. "Good, we have enough to pay his mother."

"Thank God," the redhead whistled. "Lately, she has been up-ing the prices." She clicked her tongue. "Often strange for a mother to rentboy her own son."

"With a boy like that," said Kyoka. "I pay to get a taste of him. Dick, ass-pussy, and all any day of the week." She turned to Momo. "What's your opinion?"

Momo looked at Kyoka for a few seconds before returning to her phone. "Camie needs to hurry her ass up before sensei finds out."

"I thought you paid off sensei," said Kyoka.

Momo's eyes glared at Kyoka. "I thought _what_?"

Kyoka bowed apologetically at Momo. "Forgive me, boss. Is our debt with sensei covered?"

Momo nodded her head, relaxing the wrinkles from her forehead. "It's covered." She clicked her tongue. "You are going over there tonight to cover that debt."

"Yes, boss," answered Kyoka.

* * *

Ochako's reasoning for joining this gang was based on the need for a support system. Since her mother kicked her out when she was fifteen, the gang became her family. Since then, her distrust of people driven her to a point where she decided to go rogue and hang with Momo and her crew. Although she was a force of her own, it was the power in numbers that promoted her ego. Since then, her loyalty to the crew was strong. Fortunately, she hasn't faced trouble with the law. However, her attitude and her personality gained her a harsh reputation from school and at her foster home. She has been suspended on numerous occasions for fighting, vandalism, and truancy.

These were the lost ones. The girls that were on the highway to hell without any regards, remorse, or regrets. It was the end of Ochako's ninth grade year when she made acquaintanceship with the circle of discord. They met at a P.E. class. The premature adolescents that didn't care less about health and fitness whereas they could channel their energy on promiscuity, debauchery, and the like. The lost souls were what they described themselves.

The ones that care forgot, or better yet, abandoned.

Momo Yaoyorozu was the leader of the pack. A self-made girl who had predestined her future at the age of seven, after losing both of her parents to drug overdose and suicide to loathe society and return it with the hell of her choosing. She had the mastery to know the schematics of any classroom and how to take advantage of any student out there. To Ochako, surviving high school meant being apart of Momo's team.

Kyoka Jirou, Camie Utsushimi, and Itsuka Kendou were the names of Momo's enforcers.

Itsuka was a petite tomboy who carried the world on her shoulders, wore her heart on her sleeve, and had a chip on her shoulder. Because of her fierce reputation, her unspoken nickname was Basket Case. A juvenile offender, she has spent many months in jail before returning to school on the condition she abide to her probation. Amazing that they had allowed a sexual deviant to return to school to lurk on unsuspecting boys. According to Kyoka, she has a counselor that watches her after class, but it had never stopped her on pursuing boys.

Kyoka was a loose cannon. She bounced from school to school until she admitted into the juvenile system based on numerous attempts of runaways, truancy, and robbery. Diagnosed with Opposition-Defiant Disorder, she was prone to violent lashings at students and teachers. At fifteen years old, she already has her first strike on her criminal record on an attempted murder of a classmate a few months prior. She served six months due to her being underage. At sentencing, she gave the judge certain hand gestures and smiled without having any remorse. The judge's words were "you will be back and I hope I am the one to hand you the life sentence."

Camie was a different story. She was Momo with no class. A leader, but a path to hell was her destiny. She came from a broken home. She was conceived from rape and her mother returned the favor to her along with the many boyfriends that came into that home. The oldest of the group, she was also the beauty of UA High. However, many should not let her physical appearance undermine her true nature. She was currently on probation and has been bouncing from group home to group home since she was in the second grade.

If the school could define these girls, their rightful word was lost.

* * *

Ochako took a seat across from the girls. She grabbed a cigarette from her breast pocket. As she took a drag of her cancer stick, she patiently waited her turn for her taste of pleasure.

"Give it to me," cried Camie. "Give it to mama. Take it. Take it. Take it." Her voice displayed exhaustion, which concerned Ochako. She saw a cell phone on the floor in the stall, recording the events unfolding.

"How long has Camie been doing this to Izuku," questioned Ochako.

Kyoka scratched her head. "I don't know. Maybe forty minutes. I mean that boy was unrelenting, but me, Kendou, and Utsushimi put him in his place." She licked her lips. "He had some fight in him, but damn, we got him. His mother sold him, we paid up. We want sex, he gives us sex. Want to go next?"

She turned right. "Not right now. Just surprised that he could handle it all."

Momo exhaled a puff of smoke. "A worthy investment indeed, Uraraka. I think he is going to work just fine." She looked at her phone. "We have enough time for one more before school ends. His mother will meet us nearby to collect the money. She is allowing us to use her apartment to finish you guys' turn."

Itsuka tapped the ashes on the windowsill. "Quite a great mother. Selling her son to earn money." She shrugged her shoulders. "Not my problem. Ain't that right, Uraraka?"

Ochako didn't listen to their comments. Her focus was what was going on in the bathroom stall. "That's it. Take that pussy. Take that pussy. I am coming. I am coming." She heard Camie ebbed in the afterglow of her orgasm. The stall opened. Camie was half-dressed and unkempt. She swayed her hair as she straightened out her uniform. She turned around. "Thanks for the party, Deku baby. You were a blast."

Ochako walked to the stall where she carefully opened the door. Her mouth went agape at the scene of her discovery. Izuku was sitting on the toilet seat. His body was tilted back. She saw his eyes rolling to the back of his head. He wasn't moving.

"Midoriya, are you okay," asked Ochako with concern.

"Nah, he's fine," said Kyoka. "His mother says that he often does that when he is in shock. He will be back to his normal self." She began grinning.

"I've enjoyed it," said Camie. "I can't wait to do it again soon."

"As of now, I am up next." Itsuka started to disrobe her clothing. She reached into her backpack where Ochako saw that in her possession was a strap-on. "I paid extra so I can have some time with Deku's pussy. His mom says that that is the client's favorite spot."

Momo nodded her head. "Go ahead. By the time you are finished, we will have to leave school." She whistled at Ochako. "Yo, Uraraka."

"Yeah," said Ochako.

"Looks like we will be continuing the party at his house tonight," she winked. "And knowing these knuckleheads, they will be paying extra for a second coming."

Camie grabbed Itsuka's leftover cigarette as Itsuka entered the stall. "You know it, boss!"

Itsuka closed the stall and commenced on her intercourse with Izuku.

Camie sat on the floor of the restroom while watching the replay of her interactions. Momo and Kyoka sat beside her and watched it. Hearing the sound of his voice deter her from looking at the video.

Even as she waited her turn, she often thought of her participation in this. Was it to seek his pleasure? Was it because everyone wanted him? Or was it because of the day when she was robbed of her virginity?

Confusion was in her mind but it mattered not. She was in the mood and looked forward to tonight.

 _ **To be continued….**_


	2. Some Dreams (Aren't So Lucid) (Part II)

_**Hey, guys! Here is the second chapter to "The Shadows In The Room." As a reminder, this story is a slow read, meaning tension is being built. As a reminder, this is a modern AU. So, don't expect any powers as in the canon. Warning, this story contains sensitive subjects relating to prostitution, rape, and abuse. If you are uncomfortable with this, please refrain from reading. As a reminder, the author doesn't support and/or endorse any of the material presented in this story. This is a work of fiction. Enjoy!**_

Ochako entered the train station around a quarter after four. She stared onward as her eyes were focusing on getting to her next train. Honestly, looking forward in her mind was more than a joke if she ever developed a sense of humor. Wasn't sure why she couldn't really laugh. Maybe it was her mother that slapped the taste of her. Maybe one of her boyfriends. Or maybe when another boyfriend of her mothers tried to rape her again. Something about her mother who attracts perverts, lechers, deviants. Or maybe, just maybe to the brunette's mind that her mother enjoyed the pleasure of beating down her daughter physically right after the others take advantage of her physically, mentally, spiritually. Anything that can deter and break the down the teen. A sadistic, sickening pleasure. Each time the guys would touch, lick, grab, force, a sickening smile appeared onto their face. Dark as their gums, dark as their eyes when they drove themselves onto the girl. Humor. What was humor? Whatever humor was, it went along with hope also.

She found a suitable seat where she tossed her schoolbag. She didn't care if a senior citizen were to need that seat. Why do they deserve treatment based on seniority? This caste system was nothing more than a pyramid scheme, designed to prey and look down at people like her. Once again, how would she know any better. According to her mother, her mother's boyfriends, her eighth-grade gym coach, and the nosy neighbor at her apartment complex at the time, she was nothing more than a cum stain on a hotel room floor, set to fester and dispose of.

She pulled out her headphones. Beats by Dre, a gift from one of her clients through compensation dating. She needed money, she needed things. She needed feelings. A touch, a reaction. Something to remind herself that she was alive. She was moving. She was aware that can talk, speak, react, fight, curse, scream, cry. Yet again, was she alive? They say that her body was just a vessel and the soul was the vehicle. What soul? She believed that her soul was cast away along with her hope and her humor.

The Delfonics was her current mood as she listened to "Hey, Love." This melodic tune took her away when stress crest upon her brain. Actually, it was her father's favorite song after spending his teenage summers in New York visiting relatives. He told her that his childhood out in the states was adventurous. The fire hydrant spraying, ice cream eating, chalkboard writing on the sidewalk summer with the local neighborhood blacks and Italians. It was there where he developed the taste of American music. American music that was adapted into the ears of the sixteen-year-old. Music that took her away. So, she can be partially lying that she didn't have a soul. Maybe music was what compensating her spirit. It beats compensation dating any day.

She shifted her eyes as a group of high school boys from a neighboring school passed by. She kept her eyes focused on the screen. By now, she should already be acquainted with their sexual hand gestures, mouthing expletives, and mocking moaning noises to set her off. She didn't want to entertain, let alone fight. A group of six versus one would never win. It happened once one day when she was in the eighth grade. And she promised herself that it wasn't going to happen again.

She gripped her backpack tightly as she whispered under her breath. She felt the seams to be sure that her protection and her provider was there whenever she needed it. If she did believe in God, this little two-edged sword was her savior.

She heard the name of her stop. She kept her music on as she stood up to go along with the weary salarymen, tired housewives, and happy-go-lucky students heading to arcades when they were supposed to be at cram school. She tended to furrow her eyes at a kid or two, growing envious of their innocence, of their upbringing. Kids their ages talked about manga, anime, the latest video game, which classmate was cute. Back when she was their age, she could count how many milligrams of Oxycontin can spike a drink or achieve a high. At their age, she could how long a man can take before they climax inside of her. At their age, she already knew about birth control and sex. She can remember one of her mother's boyfriends forcing her to watch porn. He wanted her to know the skills so that she can practice on him.

As she stepped out of the train, she pushed a child to the ground. The child screamed, feeling the pain of scuffed knees. She couldn't care. He had scuffed knees. At least it wasn't lacerated faces, broken hymen, purplish skin, and once, a sexually-transmitted disease.

She rubbed the bridge of her nose as she was approaching her neighborhood. Not as desolate as her former domicile. At least she didn't have to worry about looking twice to see if anyone was going to pickpocket her or try to sneak her into an alleyway. No corrugated metal shacks or boxes to compensate for living space. At least this neighborhood had running water, the nosy old neighbor snooping around the block.

Honest policemen.

She sighed loudly as she stretched her arms as she approached her residence. A small garden house that was erected during the Showa era. Vines draped the front gate like decorations. The vines were covering the nameplate of the tenants of the residence.

 _Shimura._

A round black and white tabby cat appeared on the driveway. The cat positioned himself at the center as he saw Ochako appear. "Hey, Nano," said the brunette as she picked up the cat. The cat easily climbed onto his owner's shoulder as she approached the steps. She went into her pocket and grab the keys. She inserted into the slot as she entered the home.

She was welcomed to the smell of warm butterscotch pie as she stepped into the front area. She knew she wasn't going to stay long so she didn't bother putting up her shoes.

"You're home, Ochako?"

A deep, grunting voice followed by coughing followed as Ochako stepped into the living room. She was met with a gust of smoke as she waved it out of the way. She shifted her eyes to the source as she saw the woman sitting on the couch.

Her foster mother.

"Made some pie if you are hungry."

"Not hungry. Ate before I got here."

"Surprised to see you home early," said the woman as she prepared to roll another cigarette. Hide was playing on her stereo at a low volume. Seeing the empty cans of beer, Ochako knew that her foster mother had a guest coming tonight.

At least she can trust this foster mother for her preference of guest have been young teenage boys. A sin but who was she to judge and throw stones?

"Yeah, Auntie Nana," said Ochako as she dropped her backpack to the ground. Her cat, Nano, dropped to the ground as he headed to the kitchen. Ochako knew that she needed to feed him if Aunt Nana didn't. "Won't be too long. Got to make a few stops."

"A few stops?" It wasn't a stern question but it didn't take a genius to know where Nana was going with this. Nana becoming a foster mother actually happened on a whim. A former degenerate gambler, she needed money to pay her debts or else certain yakuza men were to pay a visit and do things that she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy. A lottery happened to wound Nana and Ochako together.

Nana tapped her cigarette as she scratched under her arm. She crossed her legs as she pulled out her cell phone. "If you are gonna be late, call me. You'll never know what position my guest will fall in." She let out a haughty laugh. Ochako was the last person to judge on what the fifty-something-year-old woman did on her days off from work or whenever she could keep a job. In the past year since she had lived with her, she had work an assortment of jobs from frozen foods distributor, fee collector for NHK to working at a kiosk at the mall. Like Ochako, she too had demons that she was trying to flee from.

"Sure," said Ochako aloud as she went to the cabinet and grab the last bit of cat food to feed Nano. Nano purred against her leg as she poured food into the bowl. Ochako returned to the living room as Nana was texting on the phone. Seeing that grin only meant that her guest had some party favors to make tonight special.

"Since I see you home early, I can tell you got a little date yourself," said Nana gingerly. "Anybody, I know?"

"I don't fool around at the local junior highs, Auntie," said Ochako as she went into the closet. The house had one bedroom and where the living room was was also her bedroom. In the hallway closet, she was looking for clothes to wear tonight. She wasn't looking for anything fancy since she won't be wearing it for long.

"Hey, somebody has to teach them manhood and get their willies wet," said Nana. "At least I prefer the older ones."

Ochako didn't want to hear that. Matter-of-factly, she wasn't sure there was a parenting book that endorses that such talk. Nevertheless, it was tranquil compared to the hellhole she came from. She took off her uniform shirt as she grabbed the blouse. "He is a kid from school," she told Nana. "Me and the girls paid his mother so we can have a little fun."

"Sounds deliciously yummy," said Nana. "His name?"

"Like it matters, Auntie," said Ochako as she removed her skirt. She decided to keep the same panties on. She grabbed her strawberry scented spray and spritz around her special areas. She grabbed a pair of blue jeans to put on as she shoved her uniform into the closet before closing the door.

Nana shrugged her shoulders as she took a puff of her cigarette. "Whatever. Just wanted to do some _mother-child bonding_ is all." She laughed loudly into the room. Ochako wasn't fazed as she knew that this would be the time when she was already drunk and probably has some leftover stash of a party favor from the last boyfriend.

"Whoever he may be, just make it memorable," said Nana.

"Sure, sure," said Ochako. She stepped into the backyard and headed to the shed. It was within the confines of her shed where she kept another weapon - her switchblade. She put it in her back pocket. Also, it was there where she kept some of her money so Nana wouldn't be tempted to take any. This money, in particular, was her shakedown money. If all the hell she was going through with these random men to earn money, this will be the money to get her out of this city.

She didn't know where she was going but when she earned enough, she was getting out of this desolate city. Honestly, out of this desolate country.

In the chest, pictures of New York were on there. Pictures of her father with his black and Italian friends from yesteryear. She missed her father, wishing why it was him that had to die and not her godforsaken mother. She shuffled the cash as she gathered a few dollars for herself. In this business, it was dangerous.

Especially when she was part of Momo's gang.

 _Trust no one._

She returned it to the false floorboard and closed it. She stomped on it a few times to keep it in place. She put the money in her wallet. The teen didn't carry a wallet. No reason for anyone to warrant the temptation of snatching-and-grabbing.

She texted Momo to let her know that she was on her way to their meeting spot. They promised themselves that they were meeting together. Momo told her earlier after school that Izuku's mother changed venue and it was going to be at love motel at the edge of town.

She closed the shed as she decided to jump the wall as it led to the main road. Like a cat, she perched onto the wall and carefully landed on the ground. She pulled out her headphones and plugged it to her cell phone. The Delfonics resumed as she sat to meet Momo and the others for their evening rendezvous with Izuku.

 _ **To be continued…**_

 _ **Stay tuned for the next chapter as it will focus from Izuku's point of view. Thanks for your ongoing support.**_


	3. A Reckless Paradigm (Part I)

_**Hey, readers! BD and GOTA are back with another chapter of "The Shadows In The Room." It has been a few months since the latest chapter and now inspiration has returned to write this. Now, be advised that this story, although bittersweet and dramatic, isn't for the faint of heart. Serious material including rape, physical and sexual abuse, prostitution, and the like are presented in this story. Discretion is strongly advised. The authors don't condone and/or encourage the acts in the story. This is a work of fiction. If anyone can distinguish fantasy from reality, then please continue reading. You have been warned. This is a bittersweet OOC Izuku x OOC Ochako love story. Enjoy!**_

Izuku snapped open his eyes. Upon doing so, he was welcomed with a tremendous headache. As if someone stabbed him with a knife, the teen covered his eyes. A ringing sound was produced, piercing his ears. He wanted to cry, to shout, to yell, something to verify that he had a voice, a say, an opinion. As if someone in this world claimed him. As if someone could acknowledge him. Not as a punching bag. Not as their personal toilet. But a human being. A person that could give him a warm, friendly embrace. A touch to his cheek. A pat on the back. A comfort to know that he wasn't alone in this hurtful world.

He slowly adjusted his body against the wall. He was still in the bathroom stall. The lights were on. It was the signal from the girls that school was finished for the day. He could go home without incident.

Like it mattered. Those were the fretful words in his mind as he was managing to stand. Still, in a daze, he sat on the toilet seat, trying to collect his thoughts. The grumbling from his stomach indicated that he was hungry. Even that was questionable. He couldn't even remember the last time he had a decent homecooked meal. Potato chips, bento boxes from the mini-mart, canned soup from the vending machines, or whatever scraps he could acquire from the dumpsters were the closest things to eating in the last few months.

He was pulling up his pants, feeling the crumpled dollars. They were tips from the girls as thanks for showing them a good time. Even if he wanted to use that money to go to a bento stand, that wasn't his money. He counted the money slowly. It was $50. Knowing his mother dearest, she will inspect his pockets upon his return home. And she will scour his pockets and his backpack like a five-tooth comb. Come back without any money or lie about the amount, then he faced a violation.

The term, punishment, was not a word that was to be used in the household. His mother dearest was quite selective in wording. She had to be sure there weren't in prying ears within the confines of their home. If they wanted to call their derelict, corrugated metal death shack a home. His mother would call it a violation. It was out of love, she always told him. If love included beatings with the belt buckle, slaps to the face, kicks to the stomach, smash to the back of the head with an empty (or not) glass bottle of whiskey, then God forbid if she were to hate him.

Izuku never fought back. Even if he did, his body was too weak to defend himself. He would humbly apologize to his mother dearest and go back to his hole. The hole was his sleeping quarters. He didn't have a bedroom whenever he violated his mother. A small futon in a windowless closet at the end of the hallway. A slot in between the door for meals, if there were any. Small empty soup cans for him to defecate and to urinate. There weren't any sheets to the bed. Violated children didn't get any sheets, according to his mother dearest. Tucking himself to whatever warmth he could acquire with his body, he would sleep. If it was a weekend or a holiday, he would spend days and often weeks.

According to his mother dearest, which was a nickname he was to call her. Mother Dearest was a moniker of Inko Midoriya. Under the moniker, she was the mistress and he was the escort (or prostitute). "Closed mouths don't get fed," she told him the first day she introduced him to the darkened business of discord she called, 'using his body to earn his keep.' He wasn't sure how long his mother was having these illicit feelings of hate and disgust, but he believed it happened after his father left the family when he was eight years old.

* * *

He didn't know much about his father for he was hardly home. His father worked overseas. Whenever he was home, everything was to be neat, clean, and organized. Nothing was to be out of place. If it was, then he had to beat his mother up. Inko never fought back. She never took actions like any troubled woman. She believed in the notion, till death do they part. She always tried to make things work for her husband's comfort as he often reminded her. 'Without me, Inko, you have been nothing more than a common streetwalker chasing johns for cash. Then yet again, have you let yourself go, you fat cow!' She was always belittled, bemeaned, teased, chastised. And being a devoted wife, she did whatever she could to please him. Even now, why did she let him abuse her so? Yet again, why was he the target of said abuse?

Not even Izuku was exempt from his father's wrath. A slap here and there, destroying his favorite toys, making fun of him, and even from time to time, making him slap or spit at his mother. He remembered a certain time when he was forced to handcuff his mother behind a space heater for undercooking the spaghetti noodles. Through the blinding tears, his father struck him whenever he refused to handcuff his mother. When the deed was done, he watched his mother being beaten with a wet towel. _You like tough noodles, bitch. Let's see if this 'wet noodle' could knock some sense into you, you fat bitch!_

Then that came the fateful day when Izuku's father returned home from his recent trip overseas. As instructed, Izuku was wearing his bow-tie as he was waiting upon seeing his father's return. His mother was dressed accordingly and appropriately. That day stood out to him as it was raining that particular afternoon after his father returned from the airport. Izuku stood in front of the alcove. His mother abated head and foot to take his suitcase and his rain-soaked overcoat.

'Inko?! Why is his bow-tie crooked.' It was a tremendous roar from his father. Izuku remembered being held from his father. He was dangling in the air, feeling the tightness around his chest. His eyes were staring into the darkness in his father's eyes. His breath reeked of alcohol. If he remembered correctly, his collar even had a lipstick mark. Izuku remembered his father shaking him furiously, berating and belittling him. Izuku was very fearful that he urinated on himself.

Hearing the pitter-patter of Izuku's fear was shown on his father's face. Izuku would never forget that moment. His father grabbed him by his collar and tossed him toward the alcove. The family crest was shattered upon contact. Being pinned against the wall, Izuku was attacked by his father. He could never forget the belt. It was brown. The buckle had an eagle symbol on it making contact with his face. He faded into darkness.

When he came to, the home was in disarray. Broken mirrors, torn furniture. The hallway was covered in broken items. He sat up, seeing his mother on her hands and her knees, using a toothbrush to clean the mess. His doe eyes were upon his father as he was looking at himself in the broken mirror. Upon the corner of his eye, he saw another figure that didn't belong in the household.

She was obviously a foreigner. She was tanned-skinned, blonde, beautiful. She may have been one of those comfort women from the Philippines his downstairs neighbor Katsuki told him one day.

'I thought we could make this work, Inko,' said his father. 'Cooking my food, washing my clothes. Something a wife should do. Yet, you couldn't get our fucking son to even tidy up himself.' He spat on her. It incited a laugh from the woman outside. 'Pitiful, disgraceful. To think we were going to reconcile on this day. Yeah, right.' A smirk appeared onto his leather face. 'Panaya here was gonna teach you a thing or two on how to please a man.' He, then, eyed Izuku. 'A pity. I have even thought about making Panaya here turn Izuku into a man. But, I don't love any weakling pussies in this household.'

This Panaya character took his father's suitcase. She whispered something incomprehensible before departing from the apartment. 'I'm going to stay at a hotel for a few days. I suggest you think about what you have done and...that _boy_ you said you were managing to take care of. Come back and I see that nothing has changed.' He took her by her hair, which provoked a scream. He immediately shut her door.

'Shut the fuck up! Shut it up! Or before I blackened the other eye!'

His frightened mother understood, whimpering in the silence. He smiled once more, feeling the power of his authority in the household. 'See, that wasn't so hard,' he replied while lightly slapping his cheek. 'Like I said, if you don't take care of this pathetic household when I come back, I will be sure to beat you down like you stole something. _OR,_ do I need to send my friends over again for another lesson?'

'No, sweetie.'

'Sweetie here is for Panaya. What is your place, bitch?'

'...No, Hisashi-sama!'

'There you go!' He released her. 'Now, clean this fucking mess! Why are staring at me for anyway?' Izuku watched as his father slammed the door. He hesitantly crawled to his mother's aid. She was whimpering loudly as she gathered whatever remnants she could.

'Mommy,' said Izuku gently. 'Mommy.' As he extended his hands, it was met with a grip.

Then a slap.

'It's your bloody fault, you bastard!' Her eyes were incandescent with rage. As if she, too, met a breaking point.

'Mommy?'

'It's your bloody fault. This was the chance for him to make him love me again.' She reached for a plate behind her. She began throwing it at her son. 'It's your fault! It's your fault! It's your fault!'

'Sorry, Mommy,' exclaimed Izuku defensively as he was dodging himself from the plate.

'Save your sorries for later. You're being punished.'

Izuku slept in the closet that night. Chained and bounding by the doorknob, he wasn't allowed to leave for the entire weekend. Inko spent the entire weekend to make the home welcoming for Hisashi. So much so that she borrowed money from her parents, she placed a loan on her car as collateral, and she used Izuku's college fund to renovate the household.

Even through it all, a boy would never stop loving his mother.

 _Please protect me, God from Daddy. If Daddy goes away for a while, then Mommy can be happy._

And that following Monday, Izuku did get his wish.

Unfortunately, one must be cautious about how they pray for things.

There was a terrible accident on the turnpike. An eighteen-wheeler slid on a patch of black ice, careening into oncoming traffic.

It was a two-vehicle accident. There were two deaths. The driver of the eighteen-wheeler and the sole person in the two-door black Audi.

Hisashi Midoriya.

His car was flattened. The damaged vehicle was compared to an accordion. His body was identified days after Inko reported him missing. His body was verified after looking at dental records. According to autopsy reports, he was beyond recognition.

It was a small funeral. It was at the Midoriya home. Family, friends, and colleagues centered the living room, staring at the brown urn that was once Hisashi Midoriya. Not a wet tear was shed in the living room.

Unless one were to serve pity upon the wretch, Inko.

Upon speaking with the family attorney Inko learned that Hisashi wrote her and Izuku out of his will. His assets, their home, and their insurance money were to go to Panaya. When trying to debate these, the family attorney showed her that she even signed divorce papers.

In the heart of hearts, Izuku knew his mother loved too much. And on that day, she looked like a fool for that. The words heart and love die along with Inko.

That very night as Izuku lied sleeping underneath his quilt, Inko beat him. She beat him senseless until his body looked like a paint-by-numbers.

 _You killed Hisashi, you bloody son-of-a-bitch! You destroyed this family! You caused us to lose this home! I hate you! It should have been you that died in the crash! You should have been a stain on the hotel room floor, you bloody festering bowl of pus!_

* * *

Izuku closed the door behind him. Scratching under his brow, he was cautious as there was a cut. He applied make-up to it. He wanted to be certain to Mother Dearest that he wouldn't look ugly in front of his clients.

Grabbing his backpack and pulling out his headphones, he proceeded to head out to the exit. J.I.D.'s "Never" was the current soundtrack in his mind. As far back as he could remember, music was the path that took him away from the beatings, the harsh words, anything that promoted hate and discord. Surprisingly, it was one of his earliest clients that introduced him to the world of music.

"Midoriya!"

Izuku stopped to turn around when hearing someone calling his name. The blue-haired woman slowly approached Izuku, appearing as though they have a familiar acquaintanceship with each other.

Izuku didn't budge. He relaxed his body as he saw his homeroom teacher, Kayama-sensei.

"I didn't see you in class today and I wanted to hand you your homework." Kayama-sensei presented a file folder to Izuku as he nodded thanks while placing it inside of his backpack. As he was kneeling to put it inside, she remained. "This is the tenth or eleventh time this term you have skipped class," she said sternly. "You know in order to pass my class, attendance is a factor as well."

He didn't answer, confirming through the sigh in his nose. "Understood," he said in a tiny whisper. He stood up, brushing off any dirt or remnants from the bathroom floor. He tried to keep a steady composure without giving her any suspicion. "I will try to be present more often, sensei." He bowed humbly. "My promises."

Kayama-sensei crossed her arms. She wasn't convinced but knew she wasn't going to get any more answers from the emerald-haired teen. "Midoriya, just come to class more often. You are one of my best students. Your grades are phenomenal."

"Thanks for the news report, sensei! Now, here are sports!" He wasn't disrespectful. It was dry humor between him and the teacher, giving her indication that he was okay.

She flicked his forehead. "Your dry humor indicates you're fine." She pursed her lips. "Tomorrow, Midoriya! No excuses! If you miss, I will inform the principal."

"Understood, sensei!" He bowed once again before turning to head home.

"Midoriya!"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I would like if you stay away from girls like Utsushimi and Yaoyorozu." She was rubbing her foot as she was stubbing out a cigarette. Her eyes were looking away as if she was hiding something.

Izuku raised his doe eyes to the teacher as if he looked like he didn't any idea what she was talking about.

"I am hearing things throughout the grapevine," she told him. "You being chummy with Yaoyorozu, Uraraka, Jirou, Kendou, and Utsushimi. The Lost Ones!"

"Trust me, I…"

"Let me finish! If something is troubling you, Midoriya. Please let me know. I am willing to help in any kind of way."

"Understood! Good Night, sensei!"

Something hit his back. He quickly turned when seeing it was a bag.

"I am not sure if you have been eating," she told him. "Keep it somewhere safe. Also, feel free to come by my office before class. I keep a microwave and a fridge."

"Thanks, sensei. But I ain't charity."

"Just do it...for me."

Putting back on his headphones, he proceeded to head for the exit. "Thanks, sensei. Good Night!" He returned to his locker. He overlooked the expletives scrawled onto the locker or letters that expressed their hatred and bullying of the teen. By now, he was used to the abuse.

 _Words, nothing more._

He put his sneakers as he exchanged his slippers. He closed the locker, locking it before returning to the outside world. He looked into his cell phone. He knew it was his mother, questioning his whereabouts. He ignored the message, already concluding that he was going to be violated anyhow. He scrolled back to his music. Ab-Soul's "The Book of Soul" became the melody as he left the confines of UA High.

Back into the land where there was no space and time.

* * *

 _Mommy, where are you going?_

 _Shut up! Don't worry about what I am doing. Worry on how you are going to please her._

 _Why are you leaving me with this woman?_

 _This woman is going to help us get by. It was your fault your Daddy is gone._

 _Mommy?!_

 _Do you love your Mommy?_

 _I do!_

 _Do you want me to love you, Icchan?_

 _Yes, Mommy!_

 _Ok! For you to earn that love for me, make Mommy some money!_

 _ **To be continued….**_

 _ **A/N: If you have made it this far, then great! An intense chapter of Izuku's past. We didn't want to give everything away but hopefully, it is enough to give you guys an idea of what Izuku goes through on a daily basis. Stay tuned for the next chapter. We aren't sure to go to Ochako's POV or continue with Izuku's. When inspiration returns, we shall continue. Until we meet again!**_


End file.
